


Rage in Life, Peace in Death

by YellowCrayon



Category: Frankenstein & Related Fandoms, Frankenstein - Mary Shelley
Genre: Afterlife, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 13:17:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17204084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YellowCrayon/pseuds/YellowCrayon
Summary: Victor is going to die in the Arctic. Against all odds, Henry is there for him.





	Rage in Life, Peace in Death

_Victor….! Victor, are you there?_

He had thought himself dead, but the distant noise he heard proved otherwise.

_You have to come back to me, Victor._

Louder this time. The voice threatened to pull him out of whatever state of consciousness he was in. Something about the way in which the darkness enveloped him, like a shroud, was a source of comfort to him—and this voice would dare to bring him out of it. Comfort. What did he know of human emotion, if he was not even real?

_I’m here for you._

A blinding light startled him into existence.

Everything, everything at once, suddenly became much too real for him. Blurry shapes melted into colors. Existence itself was nothing but a jumbled mess. Questions pranced around his thoughts, making him wonder what had led to this moment. Where was he? Where had he been? Slowly, the dancing images settled down in his mind.

He had been on Walton’s ship. He had been in the Arctic, chasing down _something_ , a thing that had caused him so much _pain_ , so much suffering…

And there in front of him was his best friend Henry Clerval.

 _He’s alive, he’s alive_ , thought Victor, but even that was not enough to get him moving. Head dizzy with pain, he brought his forearm to his eyes and covered them. He was lying down in a bed, giant sheets covering his body. A sickly heat emanated from his chest and forehead. It hurt to move, to breathe, to even think.

“Victor, you’re awake! Are you alright?”

Victor’s lips were dry, as if he hadn’t spoken in years. “I’m fine, Henry.” He laughed, sitting up in the bed a little so that he could see Henry. “I’m so glad to see you.”

Henry grinned, and while Victor wished to leap for joy, he still had something nagging at the back of his mind. He couldn’t remember anything, he realized. Yes, the man in front of him was Henry Clerval, the man he trusted most in the world… but who _was_ he, really? What history did they share, and how had Victor gotten to this point? Trying to think back only made his migraine worse. 

A journey made across the world, ending in the Arctic. Walton was with him, yes, but what was their purpose there? Victor knew he had had a motive for making his journey, but what was the object of his desire? What thing could possibly make him want to chase it to the bitter end, if all he could ever want was now in front of him?

Those hurtful memories all came bursting forth like the shattering of glass.

His mother, his father, his brother, Justine, Elizabeth, _Henry_ , all the suffering, all the death that had occurred in the past couple of years sparked through his brain all at once, all of it spiraling madly in different directions, yet crashing down into a singular point, the one thing that kept him awake at night, the thing that made him realize he still had something left to fight for.

The daemon.

Victor pressed his hands to his temples, and tears swelled up in his eyes. Throwing back the enormous blankets he looked at Henry, and, quite forcefully, spoke:

“Henry, I have to get up. I have to _find_ him.”

“Victor, Victor!” Henry cried out. He put his hands on Victor’s shoulders, slowly easing him back into bed as he struggled to clamber out of it. “Listen to me. You have to stay here. It’s going to be alright.”

Victor shook his head angrily. Wasn’t Henry aware of everything he had gone through? “You don’t understand, Henry. Out there in the Arctic, something in me died. _I felt it_. Walton, he—good God, I have to tell you all about Walton—he gazed upon me in pity as I lied there motionless, hearing my tale, keeping my story close to his heart, only to watch me die in vain. Or at least, I thought I had died, but here I am now, with a single spark of life within me. For what reason I have come back, I do not know. What I do know is that Heaven commands me to continue my task, to chase my foul creation to the ends of the earth!” He feebly pushed Henry aside and sprung to his feet, immediately collapsing onto the floor.

Henry cried out in alarm and immediately helped Victor up, throwing Victor’s arm over his shoulder. “Victor, please. You’re still sick. You have to be more careful.”

Victor opened his mouth to snap back in retort, but racking coughs overtook him.

Henry set him down softly on the bed, covering him with the sheets and blankets again. “Victor, you can’t just do things on a whim. You have to take care of yourself and actually _think_ , for once. Think of the consequences of your actions. You are in no shape to go anywhere, neither here nor in the waking world.”

Victor threw back his head onto the pillow and groaned softly.

“You are at a crossroads, Victor. This, right here, is your death.”

Silence, except for the sound of Victor’s breathing. No such sound came from Henry. He continued.

“This is the time of your death, but knowing you, you have not accepted that so easily. Just moments before, in your life, you declared your quest for vengeance as a divine task, one that very nearly ended your existence. Here you have the power to choose. Will you live, or will you die in peace?” Henry bit his lips. “I must admit, your persistence had been one of the traits I most admired in you. But now? Well, I think it is time to let go. I see you are so eager to return to life, to wake up and return to health and to finally _prove_ yourself as the superior being, as greater than the creation you brought to this earth. Know this, my dear Frankenstein: you may go back, and you may continue this futile task. But I am not so sure your soul would ever truly rest.”

His words touched Victor’s heart, but still he stood firm. Sitting up in bed, Victor spoke. “I have defied death once—I can do it once more. My spirit is strong, and I will not so easily let my goal out of sight.”

Henry only sighed. “You know, you never were that good at understanding anyone’s points other than your own. I am right here with you, Victor. Isn’t this all you ever wanted? If you go back…well, I’m not sure I would ever see you again.” Henry lifted up Victor’s hand and kissed it softly. “Even if we never cross paths again, I want you to know something. I will always be near you, in your heart, in your mind. No matter the choice you make, keep me close, _here_ —” he touched Victor’s chest— “with you.”

Victor and Henry sat together on the bed in comfortable silence. Victor contemplated both his obligation to life and his longing for rest. Sickness had taken hold of him, and he was seconds from death—what would he choose? Victor looked at his hands, then looked at Henry. He smiled weakly and brushed the side of Henry’s face with his fingers. A thousand thoughts raced in Victor’s mind, each one a justification, a complicated reason as to why he should continue chasing the creature. But none of that mattered anymore. None of that mattered with Henry right there.

He heard Walton’s voice, a murmur in the air. _Victor…Victor…Wake up, Victor._

Victor was already long gone, however. He had made his decision to stay.

The sound of ocean waves whispered quietly in his ears. Victor took Henry’s hand in his, and they faded into darkness and distance.

**Author's Note:**

> And so the creature loses his last connection to humanity, the one relationship that nature cannot deny him. He has lost something, but Victor and Henry have found each other.


End file.
